The Art of Being Alone (Together)

05 | Hope You Remembered to Pack Your Pampers

My eyebrows raise. "In love?"

Now, it's her turn to blush. "In love... extreme crush on a guy I barely talk to... semantics."

I laugh, gaze instinctively going back to the buffet. And if my face was hot before, it's on fire now, because Ethan is looking right at me as he scoops potatoes onto someone's plate.

I snap my eyes away, trying to look like it was an accident, like I wasn't looking at him on purpose. Suddenly, the walk to the buffet seems a lot shorter, my mind running down a mental checklist, trying to remember if I checked my hair or my face before we left the cabin. God, what if I'm still all sweaty from sitting out in the sun at the assembly?

"Speaking of who's who," Lizzie continues, "I may as well point out some of the other well-known faces around here, starting with Shaefer." She nods discreetly in the direction of a scowling counselor. He's broad and muscular, with a face of hard features and a head of thinning blonde hair. 

"I'd suggest avoiding him whenever possible. He's worked here since the camp opened, and he thinks Miss Rodriguez goes way too easy on us. She tends to give light punishments to anyone who's caught sneaking around after curfew, or trespassing to their boyfriend's cabin or whatever. Every year he makes sure he's one of the counselors who has a cabin position, and whatever boys' cabin gets him as their counselor is basically screwed, because they have to deal with his dictatorship up close and personal all summer."

I nod, hoping there's no female counselor equivalent. "Sounds... brutal."

"According to the boys, that's a good way to describe it. And speaking of boys, apart from Ethan, Haru Nakamura is Mr. Popular around here." She holds a finger close to her chest, pointing out a guy who's laughing loudly, surrounded by a full table and yet clearly the center of attention. "He's a year below us in school, and might be in high school until he's fifty, judging by how seriously he takes it. He's notorious for getting in trouble and playing pranks, but thankfully he tends to leave the girls out of it, self-proclaimed ladies man that he is."

Lizzie's eyes search the room and then roll in annoyance as she looks behind me. "Last but not least, the person I'd recommend you avoid most. The lead in every years play, and my own personal number one fan. I have her to thank for the fact that everyone knows about my accidental flashing. And wow, lucky us-- it looks like you're about to get an introduction." The sarcasm oozes off her voice, and her clear hatred reminds me of my own feelings for--

Rita.

Rita Wexler, who has stopped right next to me and is staring at Lizzie with a self-satisfied smile.

"Didn't expect to see you here, Liz."

"Would've preferred not to see you here, Rita."

You can practically hear the scoreboard buzzer as Rita squints her eyes. One point for Lizzie.

"Nice outfit, did you make it yourself?" She cocks an eyebrow. "I'm sure all the guys sure hope so, since it means they might get another free show."

And just like that, the game is tied.

It's at this moment that it feels like the universe put me and Lizzie in the same cabin for a reason, because from the looks of it, we have more in common than anyone could have guessed. Between WHS and Camp Create It, Rita Wexler has been busy making both of our lives a lot more complicated.

As if she can hear my thoughts, Rita finally notices who she's standing next to. She gives me a once over, mouth opening slowly. Her eyes look back and forth between me and Lizzie, our arms crossed as we stand shoulder to shoulder. Well, arm to shoulder, since Lizzie's about ten inches taller than I am.